


In The Moments Of Clarity

by RagingBookDragon



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Heavy Angst, I just couldn't stop thinking about how sad this idea would be, I'm Sorry, and now i'm sharing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagingBookDragon/pseuds/RagingBookDragon
Summary: Crimson fades from his vision, and suddenly everything is clearing faster than he’d like it to, and one shocked look from the wounded young man snaps the fiercely tied cord that had his spine taut with all the fury he’d felt. All he can manage to form is, “It’s your home.” Then the memories hit.It's Dracula's death, but his POV!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	In The Moments Of Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I suck so bad at summaries. The writing is good tho, so check it out! Thank you for reading! -Thorne

**Red.**

Everything in his vision is colored red.

**Rage.**

It’s bubbling in his chest, and every pound of his heart sends it coursing through his blood.

**Pain.**

There’s some aspect of it hiding in his bones as he slings the young man, watching as he flies down the hall, hitting the door.

The wood splinters as the large oaken door breaks, and the golden-haired man disappears into the room with it. His hand curls inside the doorway, and nails sharp as steel cut grooves into the stone and wood as he enters after. As if he’s breached the surface of the sea of anger he’s been under, his breath leaves him as he takes in the view of his only child’s room. Crimson fades from his vision, and suddenly everything is clearing faster than he’d like it to, and one shocked look from the wounded young man snaps the fiercely tied cord that had his spine taut with all the fury he’d felt. All he can manage to form is, “It’s your home.” Then the memories hit.

_“Father come find me!” A smile graces his lips as he watches the child run down the hall, turning the corner into his room. His steps are silent as he follows inside, and he doesn’t even need to look to know where the boy is hiding. A giggle sounds as he takes a step inside, and he wonders,_

_“Hmm…I wonder where Adrian has gone? He couldn’t have gone in his room, could he?” Another giggle sounds, and his son whispers,_

_“I’m under the desk!” Taking the ‘advice’, he walks over and crouches down, dragging the giggling boy out from under it._

_“I’ve found you!” The child bursts into peals of laughter, and the father presses a kiss to his temple. “Young Adrian, you’re getting better and better at hide and seek every day!” His son smiles, then turns his gaze to the door, the grin brightening as he cries,_

_“Mother!” The blond woman steps inside, smiling wholeheartedly at her loves and she walks over, pressing herself into his side, one hand cupping the child’s cheek._

_“Hello, my precious little sunflower. Are you having fun?” The boy nods and asks,_

_“Mother, will you play hide and seek with us?” She simply nods and looks at his father, who gives a smile of his own, murmuring,_

_“Lisa.”_

Another moment passes and the scarlet fades from the room, replaced by the ivory moonlight, and he watches his son’s face turn towards the ceiling mural, jaw slack as his eyes go wide with realization. The pain is greater now, and he can feel his heart tearing as he crosses his arms over his chest, hoping to stave it away, lamenting, “My boy.” He’s been unconscious for so long, body and mind becoming autonomous as the year dragged on, but he can finally feel the consciousness washing back over him. With it, comes an even more agonizing truth as he admits, “I’m killing my boy.” His steps feel as heavy as his heart does, and he stops in front of the portrait he’d painted some twenty or so years ago. His eyes drag over the soft lines of his beloved’s face and he cries, “Lisa…I’m killing our boy.” He swears he can see her smile turn into a frown as he sorrows, “We painted this room. We…made these toys.”

_“I’ve been sewing this all day…what do you think?” He looks over his shoulder at his pregnant wife who’s holding out a stuffed wolf.” The thread across the lips was a little wobbly, but he smiled nonetheless, putting down the paint brush as he walked over to her._

_“I think it looks fantastic. They’ll love it.” His wife offers him a knowing smile and pats her stomach lightly._

_“He’ll love it. It’s a he remember?” Her husband chuckles as he places his hand over hers, gently brushing his thumb over her skin._

_“Yes, so you’ve said many times.” His eyes drop to the stuffed animal and he murmurs, “I can’t wait to meet him.” The smile that follows his sentence, almost blinds him, and she giggles,_

_“I can’t either!”_

He blinks the illusion away, and nothing remains but their smiling faces as he whispers, “It’s our boy, Lisa.” Somewhere behind him, he can hear his son rising from the floor along with the cracking of wood, but just as fast as it comes, it goes, and somehow he finds the strength to turn as he confesses, “Your greatest gift to me…and I’m killing him.” His hands fall away from his face and for the first time in a long time, he sees his wife standing a few feet away behind their son, a sad smile on her lips. His son’s words come back to him. _You died when my mother died. You know you did._ Suddenly, his wife’s grimace deepens, but it gives him the courage to finally admit the words that need to be said and heard. _“I must already be dead.”_ His son’s eyes waver with an endless despair, and all he wants to do is take the burden from him. A burden too heavy for a fine young man like his son to bear. _For any son to bear_. He lowers his head a bit, looking into his son’s golden eyes with a readiness he’d been preparing for. His lips want to curl, and he wants to say that it’ll be alright, but all he can manage is the grimace as his son takes the final step to him.

It hurts. It hurts as bad as it did when he learned she was dead. But he holds it in as long as he can before it bends him over. Tears of blood stream from his eyes but it’s not from the pain of his impending death, it’s for his broken family, and he utters, _“Son.”_ The young man sucks in a shuddering breath, as if he can’t believe what’s happening before him, and breathes,

_“Father.”_ He watches from clouded eyes as his son’s brows furrow, face setting in determination. He’s proud of him, in a way. Proud that even in opposition to one another’s goals, his son has managed to become a better man than he could ever be. _A better one than he could ever hope to be._ The words are on his tongue, and he wants to tell him everything he should’ve told him. Every word of encouragement, every word of love and kindness, every word of respect- every word gone unsaid far too long, but he stays silent until he can’t anymore, letting out a gasp as his heart begins to slow. His son’s eyes squeeze shut and with that, his heart ultimately stops. His senses fade fast as lightning strikes across the sky, and he curls over, hands reaching out for his son. Before his vision finally leaves him, he sees the stricken horror that crosses his son’s face before it melts away, and all he can see before him is the image of the curly haired young child, smiling widely at him, his wife’s arms wrapped around the boy tightly as she smiles too.

He lets out a wheeze, and he finally acknowledges that this is what death feels like, but if this is what was to greet him after all these centuries… _then he would gladly accept it._


End file.
